Let Me Go Back
by Kefirah
Summary: Ianto Jones is on the eve of starting a new job – assistant to the Lord Mayor of Cardiff – but he's having some distracting dreams. AU


**Summary:** Ianto Jones is on the eve of starting a new job – assistant to the Lord Mayor of Cardiff – but he's having some distracting dreams. AU

**Characters:** Ianto J., Captain John H., Captain Jack H., Gwen C., Toshiko S., Owen H.

**Pairing**: slight Ianto/John

**Rating**: T

**Spoiler**: _Cyberwoman, End of Days_, _Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang_

**Setting**: AU set just before KKBB

**Warnings**: swearing, rude language

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Torchwood or any of its characters or plot lines, nor do I receive money from these stories. Any similarity of OC's to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

**A/N**: The title comes from a line in Blue Gillespie's song "Sugarglass". I think that and the chorus reflect what Ianto goes through – being true to himself even in the hell he finds inside. Thanks as always to my muse, my friend and my talented beta, **triquetralin**.

**Let Me Go Back**

"Ja …wha-?" The alarm startled Ianto Jones out of a dream and as he struggled to turn the insistent beeping off, the dream slipped away. "Humph."

Hazy sunlight lit the room. He looked around, lost for a moment, then everything slipped into place. The bright yellow curtains, the sparse room, his large familiar bed. Everything was where it was supposed to be. And, looking at the clock, he remembered he had a new job to get to.

Despite the sunlight, it was a chilly Cardiff morning, so he threw a robe over his nude body as he padded into the kitchen. First things first, he thought, turning on the coffee machine, all ready to go.

The bathroom was cold too. He closed the door and turned on the shower, hot as he could stand. Grabbing his shaving kit, he brought it in with him and hung the mirror over the shower head. As he shaved and washed, the dream niggled the back of his mind. He wiped down the mirror and stared. It wasn't his eyes he saw in the reflection. They were blue like his, but steelier, like twilight full of stars and passion.

The hot water fading away brought him back to his ablutions and he quickly rinsed off before the cold seeped back into his body.

Drying off, he detoured to the kitchen, poured a big mug of coffee, gave it a _blurp_ of thick cream, and brought it into the bedroom, enjoying that first taste of good strong Colombian blend while he got dressed.

Another tweak of memory – an espresso machine hissing and fizzing at him. He'd never worked as a barista that he could remember. Whose machine was it? The image slipped away. Man, he was having a weird morning. Not a good sign for his first day as Assistant to the Lord Mayor. He gave himself a mental shake and finished dressing.

A few cheese sandwiches tossed into his briefcase, he shucked his coat over one shoulder, juggled his keys, the briefcase, and a travel mug of coffee and headed out the door. The elevator down the hall was open and he could see his neighbour, old Mrs McKillan, standing inside. She saw him too and used her cane to hold the door. He quickly locked his door and jogged down the hall.

"Good morning Mrs McKillan and thanks!"

"Good morning, Ianto dear. It's the new job today, is it?"

"Yes, Ma'am." He shrugged into his coat, trying not to take up too much space.

She had come down to Cardiff from Glasgow 30 years ago and moved in with her sister who had since passed away. She was now alone except for the many neighbourhood kids she mothered in her own way.

And her special project growled menacingly from her elbow.

"And how's Rat Bastard today?"

She chuckled and gave the small bedraggled pile of fur tucked into her elbow a little bounce. "Oh his usual." This seemed to increase the growling as the Yorkie-Poodle cross knew they were talking about him.

Ianto smiled at Mrs McKillan and gave the dog a scowl. She really had called the dog Rat Bastard. She said it warned people as to the dog's obnoxious personality and if people persisted on thinking he was a sweet darling after being introduced she was not to blame.

"You're an angel Mrs. McKillan." He leaned in to give her a quick peck on the cheek, jumping back quickly as Rat Bastard snapped at him. He had gotten quite used to avoiding the dog's snapping jaws.

"Kind of you to say. I've had a boil on my arse that was more company than Rat Bastard, but all god's creatures, Ianto. All god's creatures."

Ianto chuckled as the elevator door clunked open. Mrs McKillan – face and personality of the sweetest angel, mind and mouth of a dock worker. But it was what kept her alive in this neighbourhood for so long and he loved her.

He walked with her down the hall, avoiding the snaps and lunges of the cantankerous dog as they headed outside.

"So how's yer man, then Ianto? Haven't seen him drop you off home for awhile now."

He had been taking a sip of coffee as he opened the back door of the apartment building and nearly choked.

"My man, Mrs McKillan? What are you talking about?" He was blushing.

"Hm. My mistake. Must be one of your rugby mates I'm thinking of then."

"Must be." Ianto spied the bus down the street. "Have to run. See you later!"

She waved as he ran off to the corner stop, then continued her walk towards the park. As she got closer, the tree that Ianto had pointed out seemed to change shape. What was tall and straight at one angle, now had a decided bend to it from another.

"Humph," she grinned to herself. Rat Bastard sneezed loudly and peed on the tree.

TWTWTW

The bus was full. Ianto balanced as best he could in a back corner as the driver, seemingly suffering from epilepsy or Parkinson's lurched and jolted down the crowded city streets. Maybe with this new job he could finally buy a car.

A large black SUV swerved past the bus, veering in beside them and then screeching ahead. Like that one. I'd like driving that, he thought, gazing at it dreamily as it disappeared around a corner.

He finally got off in the city centre and rushed towards City Hall. He was met at the security desk by a young, very beautiful man who introduced himself as Idris Hopper, the man that Ianto was replacing. He couldn't help blushing again remembering Mrs McKillan's comment about "yer man". It didn't help that Idris was giving him a good look over, albeit discreetly.

The rest of the day loped along. The new mayor was a meek, mousy little man with hair that looked like it was trying to jump off his head. He also had a tendency to mumble and Ianto had a headache by lunch time trying to listen hard enough so that he wasn't saying "pardon" all day.

By six o'clock he was rung out. He got off the bus early to grab some Chinese take-away and plodded wearily home.

TWTWTW

The next few weeks were more of the same. No dreams, though. No strangely interfering memories. Just work, home, visits with Mrs McKillan and a birthday call to his sister.

The night was unusually warm. Moist air off the bay misted through the streets creating pockets of fog, but the air still hung onto some heat of the day. Ianto was restless, deciding to walk home from the cinema, not ready for bed, and especially not ready for another long week as the Mayor's assistant.

He thought back, wondering just what made him apply for the job, but something didn't feel right. He had left London when Lisa had died in a fire, unable to bear the memories of her, but why had he come back to Cardiff, of all places? The job as the Mayor's secretary seemed like the right reason but he couldn't exactly remember who he had spoken to, couldn't remember details of the interview. There was a call saying he was perfect for the job and would he start right away, but the harder he thought about it, he couldn't remember the actual job interview or applying.

Odd. A lot of odd occurrences in the past few weeks. More than just memories, he sometimes found himself doing things that made no sense – tapping his ear instead of picking up the phone, expecting a gleaming espresso machine on his kitchen counter instead of the familiar, battered Coffee-o-matic™ and once he spent ten minutes frantically looking for a gun he was sure he had never owned.

Something about the night caressed his memories again. A misty park and the sound of two men struggling, fighting. He had jumped in with a stick and the memory cut off, but not before he saw those dark blue eyes again. The same eyes he had imagined when he looked in the mirror. Deep, sky-filled eyes. His crotch twitched.

A burst of techno music interrupted his thoughts – a crowd of people leaving a nightclub down the street. _Bar Reunion_ was the name over the door, written in a nice script. Maybe a quick beer would help him relax enough to go home to bed.

The place was busy but not packed like sardines. It was trying for a retro look with brass fittings and mirrors, but it just looked like the 80's never left. At least there was no green or pink neon, he decided. He got a beer and found a mirrored pillar to prop up, content to people-watch until he was sufficiently buzzed enough to deal with anyone.

He got more than a few appreciative looks. He knew he wasn't bad looking. Tall, slim, well-groomed, with tidy, short, dark brown hair and light blue eyes that some people would kill for. He was told he had a lovely smile, but he knew he didn't use it often.

A flash of colour across the bar caught his attention and he found himself watching a lean man with a swagger few could pull off. He had the most striking red military coat with gold braid over top a stained tan shirt and narrow trousers tucked into a pair of knee-high scuffed boots. Definitely not your usual Cardiff night-clubber. The light fell on his face, angular, handsome, with sharp cheekbones and jaw. His eyes were like steel balls, and as they flashed in Ianto's direction for just a second he felt something familiar about them. That same sky-filled look. He found himself holding his breath.

So when the man brought his left arm up, exposing a dark leather strap, and fiddled with a few buttons on the strap, Ianto had no breath to gasp.

Everything rushed into his head at that one gesture, barrelling through his mind and he remembered.

A tall dark haired man, with the same anachronistic fashion sense – although never so grubby – that same wrist strap, making that same gesture. A man with the blue eyes that filled him with desire.

The memories came so fast, and some of them didn't stay. No names yet. Just faces – a woman with dark hair, bright eyes, engaging smile; a surly thin-mouthed man; and poignant, dark, Asian eyes in a sweet feminine face, so sad looking.

The stranger was moving through the bar. As he passed, Ianto saw an intricate scabbard and a low-slung gunslinger's holster, with two large guns bouncing heavily at his hips with each stride. Without thinking, Ianto reached into his waistband. Now he knew. There should be a gun there. There was always a gun there. It was as constant as the faces that came up in his mind.

He stepped back, watching and waiting. When the stranger pulled out his own guns, Ianto was the only one who didn't run screaming from the bar.

"Alright, come out."

In the silence Ianto could tell the man had a lapsed London accent but he was absolutely positive the stranger wasn't from London. He took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the pillar, hands held out at his sides, open and nonthreatening.

"Oh hello, Eye-candy." The stranger was working through a long line of drinks, but he took a moment to give Ianto a very long appraising look. "What's your name, then?"

"Jones. Ianto Jones." He saw no reason to lie. "What's yours?"

The man ignored him and went back to taking another couple of drinks, waggling an empty shot glass at him to come closer.

"So, what made you brave enough to stay?" He was handsome in a rough way, bit shorter than Ianto, but strong and dangerous looking. He gave a quick sideways look and a mocking frown. "Oh please don't say you were in the loo when everyone left!"

Despite the tension, Ianto actually grinned, which seemed to please the stranger.

"Put your hands down. You can't drink with your hands up." The dark-eyed man pulled a bottle out from behind the counter and offered it to Ianto.

"I have a feeling I'll need my wits about me," Ianto replied, taking the bottle but not drinking.

"Good one, Eye-candy."

Ianto wanted to remind this man again what his name was, thought of the guns and decided to leave it. Was he flirting or being condescending?

"Who are you?" Ianto found it difficult to not stare at the leather strap around the stranger's wrist.

"Who do you want me to be?" He mocked in a girlish voice, eyelashes fluttering.

"Okay, why are you _here_?" Ianto made sure the stranger knew he didn't just mean in this bar.

"Now that's a much better question!" He toasted Ianto, tossed back another shot, and turned around to lean on the bar. "I'm looking for something. And someone."

Ianto had no idea what prompted him but he found himself saying "I don't think you'll find him."

The steel eyes bore into him. For the second time he wished he had that gun in his waistband.

"What do you know?"

"I don't … I mean, there's someone with the same wrist strap. I don't know who he is or where he is, but I just know he's gone."

They were interrupted by the front door opening. Like a cowboy with a long weather-beaten coat, coming off the range, the tall dark-haired, night-eyed man haunting Ianto's dreams stood silhouetted in the doorway. He had no idea why or how, but he knew this man.

"Thought you said he was gone?"

Ianto could only shrug. "He came back?"

The stranger wiped booze off his chin, gave Ianto a long look and then made a decision. Pulling him close, he kissed Ianto hard and passionately on the lips before letting him go. Scrabbling against the bar to keep his balance, Ianto was quite sure he'd never been kissed like this before and was quite sure he really, really liked it. Wobbly-kneed, he felt his legs give out and he plonked hard onto the floor behind the bar, head spinning.

"I may not survive this," the stranger said, turning to face the other, dark-haired stranger who was making his way in long strides up the bar. "So, thanks for the company and the kiss."

The two men met halfway down the long room. Ianto watched them square off. Some instinct alerted him to the fact that he should stay hidden. When the two men grasped each other in the most passionate and face-sucking kiss he had ever seen, his jaw dropped. And this was just moments after having been the subject of such a kiss – even if it was slightly shorter.

Great, Ianto harrumphed, the most amazing kiss I've had with a man and he ruins it by kissing the next one that comes in the door.

His jaw dropped even further when they broke apart and all hell broke loose. The scruffy stranger hauled off and slugged the taller man, and it was suddenly on. Punches and kicks were traded, grappling and shoving, walls and mirrors were smashed and throughout it all the two men laughed.

Ianto really didn't understand any of it. When the shorter guy picked up the taller one to slide him down the bar, taking out all the shooter glasses, Ianto ducked even further behind the bar for cover.

The crashes ended and he peeked out. Both men were staring at each other down the barrels of their guns, trading names and stories.

That's when he discovered the scruffy stranger was called Captain John Hart, and the taller one was Captain Jack Harkness. Whatever regiment they belonged to, it had some bizarre practices and an even more bizarre dress code.

He hadn't realized how far he had popped up from behind the counter, until the tall stranger, Captain Jack, stared at him over the shorter man's shoulder. He looked surprised but then smiled.

"Ianto! Where are the others? And how the hell did you get here so fast?"

The sound of his name on this man's lips seemed to trigger more memories, but still a jumble.

"I … er, came in for a drink."

The shorter man, Captain John, stepped forward and dragged Ianto out, holding his arm possessively. "Do you like him? I found him, so he's mine. Get your own!"

Jack looked confused. His face went through the motions as many questions whirled through his mind, but finally settled on one. "You're with him?"

"Yes," John answered.

"Um, not really," Ianto replied, ignoring Captain John's pout. He just couldn't concentrate long enough to answer confidently.

Just then Captain John swung Ianto back behind him again, firing off his gun at the front and back entrances, blasting the windows out. The bar was looking decidedly less retro and more apocalyptic.

There was much yelling as three people inched their way in. Two from the back entrance and one from the front, guns out and aimed. Ianto's head swivelled back and forth as he recognized the three people – dark-haired Gwen, sharp-faced Owen and sweet-eyed Toshiko.

This last burst of information was a little too much and for the first time in his life he crumpled to the ground in a dead, but very graceful, faint. But not before he heard Gwen uttering a very heartfelt profanity.

TWTWTW

He came to, propped between the two women, in a speeding SUV. Jack was driving, Owen was in the other front seat, arguing, and there was a disgruntled rattling from behind him. He glanced back and saw Captain John sitting sideways in what must be the cargo section of the SUV, holding on with one hand and covering his nose with the other.

"What the hell do you transport back here? It smells like a sewer."

Ianto glanced at the women he was squished between. Toshiko was puttering away on a computer panel that was obviously attached to and powered by the vehicle. Gwen, he noticed, was smiling at him.

"Hi, how are you feeling now?" Finally a nice, familiar Welsh voice.

"Hi. Groggy, bit weird. I know you, but I don't know how I know you."

"Having done it myself, I shouldn't be too impressed but I gave you _two_ and you've still come out of it."

"Huh?"

She thumped the back of the seat where Owen was sitting. "You're checking the expiry dates on those Retcon pills the instant we get back, Owen. You hear me!"

"We make them. There is no expiry date."

"Excuse me, but what the hell are you talking about? Have you drugged me?" Ianto decided a bit of indignant outrage was in in order.

Gwen turned back to him, all sweetness again. "What do you remember, Ianto?"

He rattled off their names. "And, I think I used to work with you? I'm supposed to have a gun," he pointed "like yours."

"Don't give him one yet. He's still unstable." Owen shot a glance over his shoulder. "No offence."

"That's all you remember?" Gwen was confused. "How did you get to the bar, where we all were going to be, if you don't remember anything else?"

"I just went in for a drink!"

"Pure happenstance!" Captain Jack shrugged in the front seat.

"Fate," Captain John said from the back.

"Well he's starting to remember, so someone needs to do something." Owen couldn't keep out of it.

"If you've fucked with my memory, I would like it back please. Then I'll make a decision on where I'll go and what I'll do, thanks."

"Sounds fair," Jack said as stopped the car with a heavy foot on the brake, causing everyone to jostle. "Okay, everyone out of the boat. We're home."

They were in the middle of Millennium Square, stopped in front of the Water Tower. Ianto was getting tired of niggling memories and wish everything would come back in one big reassuring rush, but so far nothing was co-operating. Right now he was getting a feeling about a certain block of stone in front of the tower, but since he couldn't make sense of it, he followed Gwen and Toshiko down to the quay. Owen had slipped into the driver's seat, off to park the SUV. Captains Jack and John seemed content to watch the scenery from the square.

The two women led the way to a small dockside building, extremely run-down, with peeling paint on heavily weathered wood. Inside was a small vestibule with a counter, stacked with tourist information, maps and kitschy nick-knacks to buy. The place had a deeply familiar feel and Ianto felt comfortable for the first time in nearly an hour.

"I'm going to stay here and just let my brain rest. I can't handle anything more right now."

Gwen opened her mouth to disagree but Toshiko beat her to it. "Take as long as you like, Ianto. Join us when you're ready."

In a surprisingly automatic gesture, his fingers found a red button under the counter and pressed it. A stone wall opened up into a dark passageway and the two women stepped through.

TWTWTW

Okay, he thought, two days ago I was a bored flunky for the Mayor, now I'm involved in some secret agency that has hidden doors, computer-y wrist-straps, guns and one incredibly tech-ed out SUV. It was beyond bizarre.

But in the quiet behind the counter, he found himself straightening stacks of pamphlets, re-shelving books, dusting the computer and each task seemed to re-order his own mind. Memories filled out, slipped into place and by the time he was finished tidying up (with a thoroughly snarky remark to whoever let the place go to shit so easily), his mind was close to being completely ordered too.

He remembered Jack with the most vividness – his affection, his sense of responsibility and intense passion. He took care of the team like something possessed, but there was something more indefinable between him and Ianto. He remembered kisses, caresses and more. Blushing, he shied away from those thoughts.

He remembered with a deeper anguish that Lisa hadn't died in London. She had died right here, down below, shot down by Jack and the others, some half-human, half-cyborg, bent on destroying Ianto, and destroying his world. That memory was painful but he was also aware that time had passed, sins had been forgiven and life moved on.

Most of all he remembered why he left. The pain of Jack leaving, moments after reviving from the most awful death. He had just gone, disappeared in a a blast of wind and noise.

This had driven Ianto to leave Torchwood, his home and work. He couldn't bear coming here day after day without Jack, no matter how much he loved the others. Jack was Torchwood to him, and Torchwood was life. Days later Gwen found him. They had a long heart-to-heart over several beers and that was the last thing he remembered before waking up weeks ago with his new job.

Now he had a decision to make. Would he go back downstairs? Slip into the role he had before? Jack was obviously back, but from where? And would he go off again? There was no telling. Could he start over? Did he want to go back? All the strange memories. It was as if his body and mind couldn't forget completely, would never leave him be. No matter how much Retcon, he couldn't get Jack out of his system.

Despite the uncertainty and pain, Ianto knew there was nowhere else for him. Nowhere he wanted to be. He pushed the secret button and taking a deep breath, slipped quietly but assuredly through the opening stone wall.


End file.
